


You Must Like Me (For Me)

by seekrest



Series: The Secret Sessions [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (but isn't he always?), Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, I saw canon and did a complete 180, IronDad but make it MJ, Meet-Cute, Michelle Jones is Tony Stark's Biological Daughter, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Yeah you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: "You okay?"“What’s it to you?”He puts a hand up, immediately looking sheepish before saying, “Sorry you just— you kinda look like you’ve had a bad night.”“And you would guess that because…?” Michelle asks, feeling sarcastic even if everything about the guy’s posture indicated that he wasn’t intending to be rude.“You’re soaked for one,” he says, nodding towards the water that had started to pool underneath her because of her coat, “and you look like you just ran out of a wedding or a fancy party.”He smiles, picking his phone back up before leaning against the bar. “Am I wrong?”Michelle purses her lips, eyeing him up and down before saying, “You’re not.”
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: The Secret Sessions [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537501
Comments: 74
Kudos: 241





	You Must Like Me (For Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Song inspo: Delicate, _reputation_ (2017)

Michelle ducked into the crowded and noisy bar, glancing behind her to see if she had successfully ditched her security guards. 

  
It was a risk, one that she knew she’d catch hell for when she got home - if she even lasted that long, but she was tired - physically and emotionally - of feeling like she was constantly under a microscope. 

Leaving the gala hadn’t been part of the plan, she knew that. But Michelle felt as if she didn’t leave, she was going to burst. 

As she walked in, hoping that no one else would notice how ridiculously overdressed she was, Michelle thinks back to the gala and the apology she knows she would have to give.

* * *

She hadn’t intended on leaving. She’d promised her father as much, right after that picture - but Michelle felt that if she didn’t, she would scream.

It wasn’t her father’s fault, wasn’t anyone other than society and their fucked up expectations about what a woman should or shouldn’t be - a reminder of why Michelle stayed out of the spotlight. 

_“What are you wearing?”_

_“Who are you dating?”_

_“Are you planning on following in your father’s footsteps?”_

The camera flashes, the questions, the paparazzi - Michelle was used to it by now. But it was that last question that bothered her, one that she knew was irrational. She’d texted Harry about it, during the gala while her father and stepmom were schmoozing. 

**Michelle** : When do you get home again? 

Michelle did some quick mental math to see what time it was in Guatemala, knowing he and his father were working on some clean water project that he had tried to get her to go on. 

She liked it, helping the world - feeling like they used their money for some kind of greater purpose. Michelle knew her father had said on more than one occasion that she could be the one who spear-headed any of the green initiatives whose existence was partly inspired by her anyway. 

Michelle grimaced, seeing her father in the distance - fake laughing at a joke before he turned, seemingly feeling her gaze on him. His eyes soften, in a way that makes Michelle feel guilty - knowing that if he had his way, neither of them would be there. 

But this night wasn’t about either of them, but about her step-mom - giving a well-deserved award to a woman who excelled in business and was finally getting the recognition she deserved. 

It was a reasonable hour in Guatemala but Michelle knew that Harry wasn’t one to answer immediately, never had been. He was one of her best friends, something that would be weirder considering he was an ex-boyfriend - only made weirder considering the way all rich kids eventually dated. 

Harry wasn’t a bad guy but he wasn’t the best at emotional support. Not that Michelle would ever openly admit that she needed such a thing. She was her father’s daughter after all. 

He seems to extricate himself from the conversation he’s in, making a beeline for her as Michelle sighs.

“You alright, kiddo?” 

She looks into his eyes, a warm brown that calmed her - the same look in his eyes that he’d given her when she was growing up after she’d fallen down, the same look that reminded her that for as alone and as isolated as her life made her feel, that there was at least one other person who understood exactly what she was going through. 

Growing up in the shadow of a famous father. Having a legacy just by virtue of being born - expectations and opinions about you before you even set foot in the room. 

While her dad was nothing like his own had been, there was no one on the planet - save for Harry - who understood just how fucked up it was to be famous before you were even born like Tony Stark did.

“Mr. Stark! Picture for the _Bugle_ of you and your daughter?” 

Only Michelle could see the flash of annoyance in his eyes before his features changed, smiling at the camera as he drew a protective hand over Michelle. 

“Just the one. There’ll be plenty of time for photos later.” Michelle’s face transforms into the smile she’s perfected over the years, a look that she knows is similar to the one her father has from the disgruntled look on the photographer’s face. 

But he takes the picture, hearing the warning in his voice - Michelle thinking to the last time he’d nearly shouted at photographers, yelling at them to back away as they crowded around her - his arm in the protective stance that was so reminiscent of the one he had now. 

The memory of it makes Michelle cringe, thinking of how much of an idiot she had been. It was stupid - getting drunk, going out in the first place, letting herself get caught. High school was rough for anyone but the pressure surrounding her had felt like a ticking time bomb, knowing even then that she wasn’t rebelling against her family, but against the world - of the expectations placed on her that she knew she’d never live up to.. 

It was in those moments that made Michelle miss her mom, even if she never really had the chance to know her. Michelle missed the idea of her, the wonder of what would’ve happened if she hadn’t died in childbirth - but even that fantasy wasn’t one she had allowed herself to have guilt-free. 

It was easy to imagine a life without the fame, without the press - of a life lived in seclusion, being unknown and living with a mom whose smiles in pictures filled her with so much warmth and so much sadness for what she had lost. Michelle loved Pepper, a woman who had acted as a mother figure long before it had ever been made official. The fantasy of the mother she had never met never lasted long, knowing that in that world, Pepper wouldn’t have been the central figure in her life that she had been. 

Yet Michelle still wondered what life would be like - an ordinary existence, where she wasn’t Tony Stark’s daughter - if she lived a life without wanting to give a big fuck you to the world, middle finger in hand - knowing that even that surge of pent-up energy was just a further reminder that she was her father’s daughter, his own history serving as a lightning rod that Michelle’s antics had been compared to. 

Yet he had never been needlessly harsh with her, Michelle knowing that the unresolved issues he had with his own father - her _grandfather_ , even if she hated using the word knowing how awful the man had been - weren’t mistakes he had wanted to make with her. 

“It’s gonna be okay, kid. You got me.” He’d tell her, over and over again until Michelle would finally listen - internalizing the idea that of all the people in the world, he was there for her. 

But even now, some five years after the night out that had made headlines - the _final_ night out that had led to a stint in rehab and hours of therapy - Michelle felt as if she would never be able to outrun the reputation that had been built up for her. 

A reputation that had seemingly followed her well-into college, one that still hounded her - despite her graduation from MIT, despite the years of college she had spent studying instead of going out, despite her attempts at involving herself in the philanthropy of Stark Industries, getting questions about her recovery as if the image of her seventeen-year old self, stumbling out of a club - strung out on a cocktail of drugs and alcohol flowing through her system - was the only thing she would ever be defined by. 

It infuriated Michelle in many ways, but it was the hypocrisy that aggravated her the most - knowing that Harry’s ‘indiscretions’ as her publicist called them, were not only worse but still on-going - and yet would be brushed over because of his trip to Guatemala. 

Unfairness in the worst way because of his skin color and gender. 

The world was cruel. Michelle was used to it. 

Yet tonight had been a breaking point, suffocating as she watched her father torn away by Uncle Rhodey, an apologetic glance in her direction.

“Sorry kid, five minutes.” He’d said, pressing a kiss to her temple like she was five and not twenty-two before walking off - only for Michelle to almost be accosted by the same reporter from the _Bugle._

“Ms. Stark, do you have time for some questions?”

Michelle gave a tense smile, going to move away from him only to be stopped - seeing the glint of something dark in his eyes, knowing before he opened his mouth about what he wanted to talk about. 

“Congratulations on your recent college graduation. Have you considered what you are going to do next?”

“No comment.” Michelle rattled off, looking for a familiar face - the crowd blurring together as she tried and failed to move away from him.

“My sources say that you plan on leveraging your degree in psychology towards working in mental health. That you plan on incorporating your senior thesis on the relationship between addiction and genetics into a wide-scale initiative for the company’s city outreach programs. Do you care to expand on that?” 

He was half-right, she majored in psychology and had written a paper on addiction and genetics, rightly guessing that her professor had been more curious about reading about her interpretation of her family issues than on exploring the class material. 

But the reporter - insistent and pushier than most she’s been around - was also wrong, assuming that she had any desire to work for Stark Industries or that she would use one research paper as the basis for the rest of her life.

This kind of thing didn’t normally rattle her, it wasn’t even something that registered on her radar. Michelle learned a long time ago not to let the questions and the comments of other people bother her when it came to her family. 

But there was something about that night - something about the existential dread she’d been feeling about her life, her reputation, her fucking place in the world - that sent her over the edge, not so gently pushing the reporter out of the way and making a beeline towards the door. 

She’d have to apologize to Pepper later, knowing already that she’d forgive her - even if it made Michelle hate herself a little, knowing the worry that she would undoubtedly cause them. 

She was an adult in every sense of the word but had stayed with them in the interim while she figured out what she wanted to do next - a security measure that only exacerbated the feeling of living in a bubble that Michelle felt every day. 

Michelle knew her personal bodyguards would be following her, knew that if she found herself in any trouble that either of them would be made aware. 

It made her hate herself a little, skipping out on a night that was meant to celebrate a woman who had shown her so much love. 

But Michelle just needed a _moment_ \- taking a deep breath and walking out the sliding doors. 

* * *

That moment took her to some dive bar on the East Side, still surprised she had managed to shake her protection detail. Her phone could be easily tracked, even if she turned it off. Instead of repeating the mistakes of her teen years, Michelle sent a text - letting them know she was okay but just needed some time alone. 

Neither of them would check their phones and considering the circumstances, not just the night’s events but that she reached out - keeping her phone on to allow herself to be tracked. 

Michelle grimaced, glancing around the room.

It wasn’t her _smartest_ decision - to run into a bar when her entire reputation revolved around the strung out party girl image that hadn’t been true for years. But it had started to rain, her coat not providing nearly enough cover to protect her hair but enough that slipping away was made that much easier. 

Michelle didn’t want to drink - hadn’t had so much as the temptation to do so since that last night, but the longer she stayed in the doorway, the more she would get conspicuous - marching forward to the bar like she belonged there. 

She was probably one of the most famous people to have ever set foot in the bar yet Michelle had never been more thankful that she was in New York, surrounded by people who wouldn’t give a shit about who walked in. 

The bartender glances at her for a moment before nodding his head. “What’s your poison?”

Michelle slides on to the barstool, sighing as she leans forward. The bar was relatively empty, save for a guy next to her - swiping through his phone. 

“Water.”

He smirks, in amusement or recognition Michelle doesn’t know, but she watches as he grabs a glass anyway, pouring some from the tap.

“Wrong place to come to if all you want is water.” An unfamiliar voice rings out, Michelle looking over her shoulder to where it had come from.

The guy next to her was no longer on his phone, nursing some kind of drink as he put the phone down, looking towards her. Michelle eyed him for a moment, looking at him up and down before saying, “Wrong person to talk to if you think I give a shit.”

The guy laughs, putting a hand up almost apologetically. “Sorry, sorry, my bad.”

The bartender hands her the glass of water, moving towards the other end of the bar when Michelle takes a sip, sighing again. 

“You okay?”

Michelle’s eyebrows knitted together, looking back in disbelief to the guy next to her - someone who clearly didn’t get the hint. 

Her body language practically screamed ‘fuck off’, from the crouch over the bar and the protective way she hovered over her drink. Yet when she glanced over to him, she didn’t see the trademark creepiness she’d become accustomed to when talking to random guys. 

Pepper would call it an ‘honest face’, something both Michelle and her father would’ve scoffed at - in agreement that the idea that anyone could be inherently honest in a genuine way was too good to be true. 

Yet Michelle was curious, eyeing him and down before saying, “What’s it to you?”

He puts a hand up, immediately looking sheepish before saying, “Sorry you just— you kinda look like you’ve had a bad night.” 

“And you would guess that because…?” Michelle asks, feeling sarcastic even if everything about the guy’s posture indicated that he wasn’t intending to be rude. 

“You’re soaked for one,” he says, nodding towards the water that had started to pool underneath her because of her coat, “and you look like you just ran out of a wedding or a fancy party.”

He smiles, picking his phone back up before leaning against the bar. “Am I wrong?”

Michelle purses her lips, eyeing him up and down before saying, “You’re not.” 

He smiles again, like he’d won some personal bet before shrugging and saying, “Anyway, sorry I didn’t mean to intrude. Enjoy your water.” He turns away from her then, Michelle suddenly put off for reasons that she can’t explain. 

She hated being bothered when she was in public, hated still people who didn’t know how to take the hint when she wasn’t interested in talking to her.

But he seemed completely unphased by her - as if all he wanted was to make small talk and considering she wasn’t interested, seemed content to just… let her be.

It was the bare minimum - the bar was below the _ground_ \- but Michelle was so unused to the idea of anyone respecting her boundaries that she was taken aback, surprising herself when she asks, “You waiting for someone?” 

He turns back to her, mildly surprised that she had asked him a question back as he raises an eyebrow, gesturing to his phone, “I was, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

Michelle shrugs off her jacket, noticing that he eyes her dress before meeting her eyes again - resting the jacket on the seat next to her when she asks, “What makes you say that?”

He grins, a short laugh before saying, “Well, we were supposed to meet up about,” he glances at his watch, “an hour ago.”

Michelle makes a face, the man beside her laughing as he says, “Yeah, I was gonna leave but then it started to rain.” 

He shrugs, rattling his drink around, “Paid $7 for this. Might as well enjoy it.”

Michelle purses her lips before taking her water in her hand, taking a sip as they sit in silence. 

Usually by now with strangers, they’d be tripping over themselves to talk to her - ask her questions about her father or step-mom, condescendingly talk about her party girl days, rant about their opinions about the Avengers and whatever else that Michelle couldn't care less about.

But this guy seemed completely oblivious to who she was or - and this was something she’d never encountered - knew who she was and didn’t care in the slightest. 

She took the silence now to subtly check him out as she brought her water down, noting his dark jeans and the Nike shoes he had on - shoes that Michelle knows from years of wearing designer clothing hadn’t been in style for years. 

His hair was long enough that the edges were slightly curled, Michelle inexplicably wanting to run her fingers through them - chasing away how irrational that was for someone that she had just met, even if the more she stared at him the more she was intrigued. 

She didn’t mean to be arrogant but _everyone_ knew who she was - it was a feature of her life since the moment she had been born, Michelle never truly knowing what it was like to be around a stranger and feeling as if she was a stranger to them as well. 

She debates how to approach the subject when he turns to her, Michelle caught off guard that he’d caught her staring at him as he smiles. 

“How’d the party go?” 

“Huh?” Michelle asks, feeling completely out of her depth in a way she’s not used to as he laughs, a sound that buoys her. 

“The party,” he says, nodding towards her dress, “I mean unless it was a wedding.”

“Not great,” Michelle answers honestly, turning her attention back to the water, “But I should probably head back.”

He nods as if that makes sense to him, Michelle glancing to him as he says, “Yeah, I should probably head home too. Convince my friends to stop trying to force me on these dates to begin with.”

He downs his drink, reaching for his wallet out of his pocket and thumbing through it - Michelle smirking at the obnoxious bright blue that it was. 

He notices her stare, smiling at her before taking a few bills out and putting them on the bar counter before saying, “My aunt’s a teacher. One of her kids made me a wallet.” 

“And you use it? In public for everyone to see?” She asks, watching him shrug as his smile widens as he says, “Why not?”

“I’ve definitely never seen that color blue before.”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing as he glances down to it before slipping it back in his pocket, “I don’t know how they made it but you know kids.” 

She smiles at him as he nods to her before saying, “I hope your night gets better you know, if you have to go back.”

“I do,” Michelle says almost forlornly, glancing at the clock on the wall as she says, “Probably sooner rather than later.”

She turns her attention back to him as he extends his hand out, Michelle taking it as he says, “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Michelle,” she answers, shaking his hand, “but my friends call me MJ.”

He nods and smiles back at her once more before turning to leave, “Have a good night, MJ.”

Peter stands, Michelle overcome with an unbearable need to know why he was acting so casually with her - immediately embarrassed when she asks, “Do you know who I am?”

He pauses, smirking at her in disbelief - Michelle cringing as she says, “Sorry, that sounds-- that’s awful to say but that’s not what how I meant it.”

“How did you mean it?” Peter asks, Michelle watching the way his eyes crinkled as he studied her - an unreadable expression on his face. 

“I mean,” she begins, looking for the words to say, “People aren’t usually so… normal with me.”

Peter smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets before saying, “That’s too bad. You seem normal to me.”

Michelle laughs, Peter somehow smiling even more as she says, “You’d be surprised.”

Peter’s expression changes for a moment, Michelle wondering if she’d finally said something to break the spell - wondering if this was all a game or if he had some kind of hidden camera, something that she knows would be irrational since her trip to this bar had been completely unplanned. 

Only for him to shrug once more, an easy-going smile on his face when he says, “I like being surprised.”

Michelle stares at him a beat before patting the chair next to her, inviting him to sit back down.

He grins, obliging her as she says, “Then do I got some stories to tell you.”

* * *

Michelle walks out of her en suite bathroom and into her bedroom saying, “FRI, can you dim the lights?”

“Of course, MJ.” The AI’s voice chimes, glad that she’d been able to finagle her father’s AI to refer to her as the nickname she’d given herself in college. 

She’s quiet as she slips in underneath the covers, the soft satin sheets making her feel cozy and warm but knowing it was really the feeling she had deep in her chest that made her smile, bringing the comforter up to her chin as she curled up in them. 

She’d talked to Peter for hours after that, only leaving when she knew she finally had to - seeing the first news bulletin let out that she’d ditched a gala coming from the _Bugle_. 

Peter was a good listener but he was an even better storyteller himself - telling her all about his life with his aunt, his work as a scientist in some run down lab that Michelle could immediately sense that paid him too little, and the volunteer work he did at the local high school. 

Peter Parker was so objectively _normal_ that she kept waiting for the bottom to fall through, for the cameras to come out of the wood work or the bullshit detector that she swore by to give off warning bells that he was dangerous.

It never did - Michelle putting his number into her phone right before they left, grabbing it from the bedside table next to her bed as the screen lit up - the memory of his smile causing her to unlock it and over his contact info. 

She should be cautious - she didn’t know anything about Peter Parker, even if her father had already had an idea that _something_ had happened to cause her to have such an attitude shift - teasing her about it before Pepper had shifted his attention elsewhere.

The apology that Michelle had wanted to give ended up being unnecessary, something she should’ve guessed considering that Pepper knew as well as she did how much pressure it was to live up to the kind of expectations the world had for them. 

Now, curled up in her bed - all Michelle could think about was Peter - wondering if how he’d been with her tonight was how he always was or if it had been just for _her_. 

Whether he was or wasn’t, Michelle just hovered her thumb over his contact info - debating over and over whether she wanted to reach out and text him before taking the plunge, tapping out a quick message letting him know that it was her. 

She stares at the text for a beat, just enough time to regret it only to smile when her phone buzzes - seeing his reply.

 **Peter** : Wondering when you were going to text. 

**MJ:** Can’t be too predictable. 

As the text bubbles light up, feeling giddy in a way that she can’t explain - Michelle smiles to herself, setting under her covers. 

Peter was unlike anyone she’d ever met before, someone who didn’t care about who she was - and yet wanted to know _her_. 

She didn’t know him well enough to trust him.

But for the first time in a long time, Michelle realized just how much she wanted to.

* * *

_This ain’t for the best_

_My reputation’s never been worse so,_

_You must like me for me._

  
  
  



End file.
